


Put Your Money Where Your Mouth Is

by only_halfway_there



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, modern-day, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_halfway_there/pseuds/only_halfway_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma's looking toward the future, but before she can do that, she's got to deal with a mistake from her past, that might just be the thing she's been looking for all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freedomatsea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomatsea/gifts).



**_Part One - Emma_ **   
_What_ _You Get for Waking Up in Vegas_

Mary Margaret looked horrified. Ruby laughed so hard that Emma thought she was going to have a stroke.

"Damn, girl, I didn't know you had it in you."

Emma rolled her eyes, throwing a few more things in her suitcase. "Shut up," she grumbled, stomping over to her dresser and picking up her hairbrush. "It's not like this doesn't happen  _all_  the time," she said, jutting her chin a little defensively.

"Pretty sure that's only on TV," Mary Margaret said, finally finding her voice, after having been silent for a good ten minutes.

"Whatever, they have to get the idea from somewhere," Emma protested.

"How could you not have told me?" Now Mary Margaret sounded  _hurt_ , and that was so much worse than judgmental. Emma sighed, moving over to sit next to her friend on the edge of her bed, taking a break from her last-minute packing.

"Because it wasn't a big deal ... I don't even  _remember_  most of that night. We were  _really_  drunk, and it was Vegas, and it seemed like a good idea at the time." She blew out a heavy breath. "I've never thought of myself as the type to ever, you know ... I'm not like you, Mary Margaret, I didn't marry my college sweetheart and live happily ever after. It never even sounded like something I _wanted_. It was never even suppposed to be an issue. It was a bet, and he was ... " Emma trailed off, shooting a look at Ruby, who was grinning wolfishly.

"Delicious?" Ruby supplied with a waggle of her brows. "I mean, it  _is_  the one, right? The one in leather who looked like some sort of modern-day pirate? The one you were hanging all over at the craps table? It's him, right?"

"Fuck," Emma groaned, flopping back on her mattress and looking up at her two friends from her new vantage point. "I mean, obviously it was him. But I'm telling you ... it's a blur, I know it happened, but I couldn't tell you how." It was a lie, it was such a lie, but they didn't need to know that. "And now I have to go deal with it, I'll be gone a day, maybe two."

"Can't you just get it annulled?" Mary Margaret asked. "You can have papers sent to him via courier, you don't actually have to  _go_."

Emma and Ruby both shot Mary Margaret a look. "I can't get it annulled, Mary Margaret," Emma said dryly, and Ruby had to cover her mouth to stifle her next run of giggles. "You can't get an annulment if you've ... "

"Consummated?" Ruby said helpfully, in between her snorts of laughter.

Emma rolled her eyes and smacked her friend in the face with a pillow. "Yeah, that."

"But are you  _sure_  that you did?" Mary Margaret asked, looking at Emma imploringly, as if she just couldn't believe her friend would  _do_  something like that. "I mean, you said it yourself, you don't even  _remember_  most of the night."

Emma laughed, propping herself up on her elbows and shaking her head. "I woke up naked in his bed, Mary Margaret," she told her, as gently as possible.

The truth was, Emma couldn't have erased the memories of that night, even if she'd  _wanted_  to. He had fucked her like a sailor on shore leave who hadn't seen a woman in  _months_ , for  _hours_ , and the next morning, she had been achy in all the best ways, sated and marked, with whisker burn on her inner thighs that she couldn't even  _think_  about without going red and feeling desire lance through her once again.

She had yet to have an experience that topped that one, and she was fairly certain she never would. Before she'd been able to sneak out of his room, he'd woken up and they'd  _somehow_  ended up tangled together once again, with him whispering against her skin that she should stay, which Emma wrote off as him still being drunk, because there was no way  _that_  was happening.

"So what does Neal think about all this?" Mary Margaret asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest then as she looked at Emma, clearly not as amused as Ruby was by the whole situation. Emma looked down, picking at a piece of lint on her comforter then. "Emma."

"What? There's nothing for him to think about," Emma said, not meeting Mary Margaret's gaze.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary Margaret's eyes flashed and Emma could tell her friend was getting angry. It didn't happen often, but it was something to behold when it did. "He proposed last night, and he has  _no_ opinion about you just jetting off to see some guy you screwed in Vegas three years ago? One that,  _apparently_ , you're married to?"

"I told him I had to think about it," Emma said, wincing as she said the words, her face scrunched up as she dared to finally look at Mary Margaret again.

"You didn't say  _yes_?"

"It's a big decision, Mary Margaret," Emma said pointedly, and at  _that_ , Mary Margaret laughed, but it wasn't a good-humored laugh.

"Yeah, it is, and one you made in a matter of  _hours_  in Vegas," her friend said scathingly. "These things you do have consequences, you know."

"Look," Emma snapped, doing her best to hang onto her composure. "I need to take care of this before I can make any kind of decision about my future with Neal, okay. This thing in Vegas, wasn't even  _real_. Not like an entire lifetime commitment. We were drunk and it was a  _bet_  and ... God, we got married by  _Elvis_ , for fuck's sake, Mary Margaret."

Now Emma was laughing and after a moment, Mary Margaret was too, and Ruby just looked relieved that she didn't have to mediate any further. "Just let me go take care of this, all right? It'll be done, just like that, I'm sure he's  _just_  as eager to put this behind him as I am."

xOx

_Three Years Earlier_

_It had been Ruby's idea to come to Vegas for Mary Margaret's last hurrah as a single woman. Emma really hadn't wanted to go, she'd never been one for gambling or bright lights or big crowds of obnoxious drunks. She could handle herself just fine, she just prefered the quiet._

_But something about Vegas had gotten to her, she couldn't explain it. New York was supposed to be the city that never slept, but for Emma, she felt like this was the one. She found herself intoxicated by the lights, the sounds, the smells ... everything about the place. It was the perfect place to stay anonymous, the perfect place to forget about any horrific past you might have, and just live in the moment. She supposed now, she understood, why people wanted to come here so much._

_Mary Margaret had called it a night a few hours earlier, and Ruby was busy with some med student she'd met earlier that day when they'd all been out by the pool, so Emma was left to her own devices. She was too wired to sleep, so she found her way down to one of the main gaming floors of the resort. It was noisy and garishly bright, but it felt perfect to her. Nobody knew her here, nobody cared who she was or what her story was. Everyone was here for one thing, and one thing only._

_Pleasure._

_And Emma could_ definitely _get on board with that. She was no stranger to the random hook up, the urge that sometimes took over, to have a warm, willing body to make her feel a little less lonely for a couple of hours. And even though Emma had never considered herself the marrying type - the fact that they were here because Mary Margaret_ was _getting married soon, had her thinking all sorts of things. Mostly she spent a lot of time trying to convince herself that she was happier, being alone._

_Most of the time it worked._

_She didn't really know how it happened, one minute, she'd been accepting a drink off of one of the trays the cocktail waitresses were carrying around - she didn't even know what it was, but she thought it had rum in it, and it was good - and then next, her foot had caught on the edge of someone's chair, and she'd felt herself pitching forward, knowing she was about to faceplant in front of all these people in an_ epic _way._

 _But the floor never rushed up to meet her, instead, she found herself being steadied by a strong pair of hands, and when she looked up, she wondered, momentarily, if she_ hadn't _fallen and hit her head, because it felt like all the breath was sucked from her body the moment her eyes met_ his _._

_"Nice catch," she muttered by way of thanks, finding herself unable to look away from his incredibly blue eyes. He smiled at her, the sort of charming, crooked, disarming smile that shouldn't be legal. Nothing about him should've been legal. He was easily, without even having to think on it, the most gorgeous man Emma had ever laid eyes on._

_"Indeed," he responded, and his accent, his low, rumbling voice sent shivers straight to places that definitely had Emma's interest piqued. He was giving her an obvious once-over, and while normally, that sort of attention might have made her bristle, Emma was just this side of buzzed tonight, and he was_ gorgeous _, and she didn't really want to spend the rest of her night alone. Especially not if she could spend it with him._

 _"What do you say, by way of thanking me, you join me?" he said then, almost as though he were reading her thoughts, gesturing to one of the nearby tables. He leaned in, a little_ too _close, but Emma didn't care in the slightest, his voice lowering to an almost husky whisper that had her mind spiraling off in all sorts of very bad directions. "You can be my luck."_

 _Emma gave him a look then, an amused smile quirking the corners of her lips then. "You sure about that, buddy? You just saved me from falling on my face in front of all these people. What makes you think I'm, in any way,_ lucky _?"_

_He gave her a look, as though the answer should be completely obvious. "Because I caught you," he told her with a cocksure grin, tapping the tip of her nose._

_Emma couldn't even find it in her to argue with him, instead, she found herself laughing in spite of herself. He didn't lack in confidence, this one, but then ... he really didn't have a_ reason _to. "All right," she agreed, taking his arm when he offered it to her in a very gentlemanly fashion. "What are we playing?"_

_Craps turned out to not be Killian's - that was his name, he told her, in between turns, Killian Jones, and he'd just moved to the States - game at all, and he lost pretty much every turn._

_"I told you I wasn't lucky," Emma told him dryly, leaning against the edge of the table as she eyed him, fingers tracing along the rim of her glass, wondering what it was about him that made her heart beat so fast._

_"That's because," he said, downing what remained of his own drink easily, and before she knew it, he had his arm looped around her waist and was drawing her in closer - and she was_ letting him _because to be honest, she_ wanted _to be closer, "you're all the way over there."_

_They were plenty close now, and Emma swallowed thickly as she watched his profile, his strong jawline, covered by just the right amount of stubble, the way his brow furrowed just the tiniest bit, as though he were concentrating, those lush, kissable lips of his that she really wanted to feel on every part of her skin ... Emma couldn't help but to stare, and she turned a furious shade of red when he turned his head, smirking at her as he caught her._

_"I know what it is," he said then, his voice lower, as if he only meant for her to hear, and it had shivers racing down her spine. "I need_ incentive _." He quirked his brow at her, as if he were contemplating his next move. He leaned in a bit, and though they were surrounded by people, Emma didn't care about any of them, it was as though the whole world were centered on the two of them._

_"And what kind of incentive are you looking for?" she asked him, accepting another drink off another tray as it went around, tossing it back easily and enjoying the burn of the alcohol down her throat, pleased with the appreciative look he gave her as she did, taking another drink for himself and downing it with a satisfied hiss, his eyes never leaving her face._

_"If I roll a seven on this next turn," he told her, jutting his chin in that way that made_ her _lean a little closer, "you're going to let me kiss that pretty little mouth of yours."_

 _Emma's lashes fluttered, her heart thudding loudly in her chest. This was exactly the kind of thing she knew better than to let herself get caught up in - but it was Vegas. Whatever happened here, would stay here. And she'd be lying if she said she didn't_ want _to kiss him. "And what happens if you_ don't _roll a seven?" she asked lowly, one fingertip reaching out to trace the silver chain he wore around his neck, pleased with herself when she saw the way her actions made him swallow hard._

 _"In that unlikely scenario," he said dramatically, and Emma could tell it was all for bravado's sake, because he was just as affected by her as she was by him, and that was just_ fine _in her book, "I will let_ you _kiss_  me."

 _Emma arched a brow, one corner of her mouth twitching upward. This guy was something else entirely ... and she liked it. "I see," she said, hooking her finger in the v-neck of his black t-shirt and pulling him in closer, enough that their breath mingled, his lips parted in anticipation. "So everybody wins." She pulled back then, and swore she could hear his frustrated little outtake of breath, and she hid her grin behind the rim of another drink. The alcohol was coursing through her system, giving everything that glossy sheen, but her attention was still zeroed in on_ him _, and she wasn't about to go anywhere without him._

_"Unless you don't think you can handle it," he retorted, though his voice was a bit more strained than it had been a moment ago._

_Emma simply gave him a look. He reached for the dice then, but she reached her hand out, taking hold of his wrist. "I'm supposed to be your luck, isn't that right?" she asked him, eyes flicking up to his as she raised his hand up, her gaze never faltering as she blew a light breath over the top of the dice._

_"Bloody hell," he swore under his breath, casting another glance at her, not looking away from her until the dealer called out,_

_"Seven!"_

_Emma didn't have time to register anything, before she was all but_ engulfed _by Killian, his hands coming up to her cheeks as he kissed her in a way that was_ not _meant for any sort of public forum, his mouth slanting over hers hungrily, his tongue sliding out past her lips when she gasped, her own fingers fisting in the front of his shirt as she pulled him closer, the way he groaned then going straight between her thighs, making her instantly crave_ more _of him._

 _Somehow, she managed to pull back, panting for breath, chest heaving as she looked at him. He tried following after her, to pick up where the left off, but she gave him a gentle push back, a smirk on her lips. "There's more where that came from," she told him lowly, not caring if everyone in the place was staring at them now, "_ if _you keep winning_."

 _After that, there were more drinks, and Killian didn't manage to win another single roll for the next three hours, much to Emma's amusement. She couldn't help tease him about it, he paid more attention to_ her _than he did to anything that he was doing, but at the same time, she_ liked _the attention, the way he kept idly playing with strands of her hair, the way he kept looking at her like she was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. She found herself leaning in closer to him, whispering little nonsense things at him, things she wouldn't even remember saying later on, but that had him curling his arm around her protectively, as if she was_ his _, and she_ liked _it. She'd never been anyone's before._

 _She knew she was bordering on_ too  _drunk, but it felt so good, just being free, just being with someone who didn't care about her past, and whose past_ she _didn't have to care about. It felt so good to just be with someone, whose only desire was the pleasure of her company. She would never see this man again after tonight, so she might as well enjoy it while it lasted, because she knew, nights like this, didn't come around more than once or twice in a life._

 _"You're a bloody tease you know that?" he told her sometime later, after she'd nipped playfully at his earlobe, humor and liquor slurring his words as he looked over at her, a light in his too-blue eyes that denoted something more than just physical lust, but Emma was able to play it off easily as too much to drink. They'd_ both  _had too much, and yet Emma didn't feel the slightest bit worried about what might happen. She had known from the moment she'd seen him, she'd be leaving with him. "Somehow you've bewitched these dice."_

_Emma shook her head, laughing as she leaned forward, dropping her voice once again. "Don't you think, if I could do that, I'd be a very rich woman right now?"_

_"Who's to say that you aren't? Perhaps this is just what you do for fun on weekends, find some hapless sod to make your willing slave for a night."_

_Emma arched a brow at that, leaning forward as her eyes lit up. "Now, there's an idea I can get behind," she whispered, letting her fingertips trail over the back of his hand and forearm. "Win this roll ... or you have to do whatever I say, for the rest of the night."_

_"Hell, if he's not interested, I'll volunteer." The man sitting across from them at the table let out a laugh. "Buddy, if I were you, I would marry this girl on the spot," he told Killian with a knowing chortle._

_Emma rolled her eyes and leaned away from Killian for a moment, just long enough to reach for her drink again, her fingers fumbling a bit, sloshing a bit of the amber liquid over the side as she grabbed it. She looked back at Killian, expecting him to have the same amused look on his face, but seeing something wholly different there instead._

_"All right then, lass, you're on," he said slowly, standing up to his full height, leaning over her in a way that had her heart racing and a jolt of lust spiking through her. "If I lose this roll, I'm yours, for as long as you want me, I'll do_ whatever _you say ... but if I win_   _..._ "  _He smirked, casting a glance back at the "helpful" man sitting there who gave him an approving nod and a thumbs-up._

 _Emma downed the rest of her drink, her eyes never leaving Killian's, her adrenaline pumping, and her need to never back down from a challenge at full force within her then. He'd had terrible luck all night, the odds were_ definitely _in her favor on this one._

 _She never thought he'd actually_ win _._

xOx

The good thing about her job as a bailbonds person was that it made tracking people pretty damn easy. The bad thing was ... it made tracking people pretty damn easy. The train ride from Boston to Philly wasn't  _nearly_  long enough for Emma to screw up her courage enough for this. No matter how many times she told herself it didn't  _matter_ , she knew that it did. She knew there was a reason she couldn't tell Neal  _yes_ , and that reason was some stupid, drunken, dumbass thing she'd done in Vegas that she hadn't been able to stop thinking about  _since_.

She could've backed out at any time and she knew it. There was nothing,  _anywhere_ , that said she had to go along with that bet they'd made. The thing was that she'd  _wanted_  to. Emma Swan, not the marrying type, had figured it would never happen for her the way it happened for Mary Margaret. But she'd grown up alone and unloved and unwanted, and for one night, she got to be somebody's  _wife_. And he hadn't treated her like some random girl he picked up along the way, when she was with him, she'd felt ...

Something she'd never felt even when she was with Neal.

It was so stupid, and Mary Margaret was right ... all of her actions had consequences, and this one especially. She had a guy who wanted to start an actual  _life_  with her, who wanted to be part of her future, and all she could think about was this guy from  _one night_  of her life, three years ago.

She had managed to almost convince herself that the night was a blur, and she barely remembered any of it ... but the truth was that she remembered  _everything_. She wished she didn't. She wished she  _could_  write it off as some dumb, drunken thing, and have him sign the papers, and be on her way, back to the life that was waiting for her.

But what if she was making a mistake?

She sighed, pressing her head against the cool glass of the window of the taxi that was taking her to the last known address for one Killian Jones. Maybe there were lots of Killian Joneses, and this would be the wrong one.

She'd spent the better part of the afternoon after arriving in Philadelphia, wondering if she should use the number she'd found for him and  _call_  before she just showed up at his door. But every time she'd picked up the phone and started to dial, she'd had to hang up again.

What if  _he_  didn't remember  _her_? They'd both been so drunk, even the next morning ... just because she remembered everything didn't mean that he did. Or that he wanted to. He might have a life of his own and she could just be a big complication to all of that.

All the more reason to be done with this, once and for all.

The taxi pulled up in front of a modest apartment building on the outskirts of Philadelphia, in a rundown, but still nice, neighborhood. Emma paid the driver and climbed out of the cab, looking down at the little piece of paper that she'd scribbled his address down on. Apartment 311B.

The building didn't have a doorman, or security, so Emma was able to go inside and take the elevator to the third floor with no issue. Her heart was pounding as she stood outside the door, and she raised her hand four different times to knock before she actually  _did_.

She heard a dog barking on the other side of the door and smiled a bit. He seemed like the type to have a dog. Well, what little she knew of him. He seemed like a dog person.

God, this was  _insane_.

She waited an interminable amount of time before she heard someone shouting on the other side, and the barking ceased. She heard the sound of a deadbolt being undone, and she wondered if it was too late to turn around and head off in the other direction and forget about the whole thing. Surely there was some  _other_  way around this. Surely drunken weddings in Vegas wouldn't  _really_ hold up ...

The pretty, curvy brunette who opened the door and gave Emma a pretty chilly once-over was not at all what she had expected, and she wasn't sure if the rush of air that escaped her lungs then was from relief or ... disappointment. She checked her paper again. This was definitely the right place. Which meant that this was ...

"I'm sorry to bother you, I'm looking for Killian?" Emma said, finding her voice, and glad that it sounded a lot steadier than she actually looked.

The woman's expression didn't change as she continued sizing Emma up. "And who the hell are you?"

"I'm ... " She hadn't really thought of a good cover story, to be honest, she had only expected to be talking to  _him_. "I'm an ... an old friend. He may not even remember me, I was just in town and ... wanted to say hi."

"I can tell him you stopped by when he gets home from work," the brunette said, even though Emma was pretty damn certain that message would never reach Killian's ears. "What's your name?"

Emma sighed. "Emma. My name's Emma and I just ... "

"Emma?" The other woman's brows went up. " _You're_  Emma?" She rolled her eyes, exhaling heavily. "Shit."

Emma's heart rate had picked up exponentially. "I'm sorry ... I don't ... "

"He works down the street, at the pub called O'Malley's. He'll be there til after midnight, and you should probably go now, before it gets busy, if you want a chance to actually talk to him." She gave Emma another look. "I guess you finally came to do the right thing, huh? It's about fucking time, maybe now he'll ... " She shook her head, a disgusted look on her face. "Look, you know where he's at, and I don't have anything else to say, so ... "

Emma could tell she was being dismissed, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out  _what_  had just happened. "Thanks for your help," she said, even though the door was already closing in her face.

Brow furrowed, she made her way out of the building, stopping one of the tennants who was just entering to ask them if they knew how far O'Malley's was. "Oh, you can't miss it, it's just one block over, on the corner, it'll take you five minutes to get there." She nodded her thanks and headed off, still confused and feeling a knot of ... something forming in her stomach.

The pub was easy to find with it's green awning and bright neon shamrock in the window. Emma pushed open the door, a little bell jangling as she did, and she gave her eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light inside. There was only one other customer, an older man sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and watching a rerun of some old 70s game show on a beat up old TV in the corner.

"Be right out!" called a voice from the back, and Emma's heart clenched in her chest. She might've been drunker than she'd ever been, she might've played it off as something she  _barely_ remembered ... but she knew that voice. That voice had been haunting her dreams for three goddamn years.

Emma nodded a smiled a bit at the old man as she made her way to the bar, sitting down on one of the empty barstools. She pulled her satchel up onto her lap, her fingers toying with the clasp, trying to decide the best way to go about giving him the papers - outright? After some small talk?

Though what the hell could they possibly have to talk about?

The door leading to the back area of the bar swung open and Emma's head jerked up, her eyes taking in the sight of him. It was absurd. She'd spent  _one_  night with him, three years ago, and yet, she could vividly remember every detail of his body, the way he moved, the words he said,  _everything_.

Coming here had been a mistake. She moved quickly, setting the documents from her satchel down on the counter and climbing off the barstool, in hurry to be out of there before he saw her. He'd see the papers, he'd know. Her foot caught on the edge of one of the chairs and she felt herself pitching forward, and the oddest sense of deja vu washed over her, intensified tenfold when she felt strong hands reaching out, steadying her and pulling her upright.

"Nice catch," she muttered, without realizing what she was saying until she looked up and her eyes met  _his_. He looked exactly the same as he'd looked that night ... though, without the alcohol coursing through her, she could  _definitively_  say that he was the best looking man she'd ever seen.

"Emma?" he said, his voice almost an awed whisper. It was almost enough to break her and she had no idea why.

"Hey," she said lamely, biting her lip as she took a step back, trying to put some distance between them, so she could  _think_. She needed to  _think_ , and she couldn't do that with him so close.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and Emma looked back over to the bar, where she'd set the documents. She walked over and picked them up, holding them out for him as she approached once more.

"I came to bring you these," she said, and she noticed that her hands were shaking as she waited for him to take them. "It shouldn't have taken three years and I'm sorry it has to be this way, but I thought it would be better if I brought them in person and ... "

"Divorce papers?" Killian asked, thumbing through the file as he looked back up at her, his expression confused.

"Yeah, I mean, I was gonna have them write up an annulment but you can't get one if you've ... "

"Consummated?" His brow went up, that damned smirk on his lips, and Emma tried to ignore the way it affected her, even now. "You were quite the screamer, if my memory serves."

She closed her eyes briefly, trying to block out the images of his head between her thighs, his mouth and fingers working in tandem to bring her to the brink of oblivion over and over again, trying _not_  to remember the way his hair had felt, slipping through her fingers as she'd tugged at it, crying out his name til she was hoarse as he'd made her come so many times she'd lost count, and that was all  _before_  he'd even fucked her properly ...

Her eyes snapped open and she clenched her fists at her side. She clamped her mouth into a thin line before she could start gaping at him for making comments like that. She crossed her arms in front of her, determined to keep her distance, to not let him get too close. "Look, I don't even remember that night, I just need you to sign the damn papers. This is a complication that my life does not need right now, okay? You definitely have to want to have this put behind you, right?"

"Right," he said, and his jaw was clenched tight then. "If you don't mind, I'd like to look these over before I sign anything ... have my lawyer look at them. How long are you in town for? You don't ... live here, do you?"

Emma shook her head. "No, I don't, and I'm only here until tomorrow night, so if you could get this dealt with quickly I'd really appreciate it." She turned to head toward the door, she didn't want to be here any more, she didn't want to be talking to him any more. This was all just such a mistake.

"Where are you staying? I'll drop them off tomorrow after I've signed them."

She turned, her hand on the door handle. "I'm not going to tell you where I'm staying," she said. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why? Afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off me if I show up?" Killian asked, that smug grin on his face that she remembered  _so well_  from all those years ago. She had the urge to smack him. Or kiss him.

And neither one of those was a good idea.

She gritted her teeth. "Just sign the fucking papers, Killian. I don't have time for this. I have a life to get back to and I have no desire to get in the way of yours. I'll meet you back here tomorrow at noon. Just have them signed, all right?" Without waiting for him to respond, she yanked open the door and hailed the first cab she saw, giving him the address to her hotel.

She most definitely did  _not_  look out the rearview mirror to see if he was watching her leave. (He wasn't. And she didn't  _care_.)


	2. Shake the Glitter Off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this update took a little longer than anticipated ... I had an unexpected computer issue, so I didn't have a functioning laptop at all this week. But I have part two ready for you guys now, and I know I initially planned for this to be a two-part fic, but um ... it's definitely going to be longer. There's so much more of this story I want to tell, I hope you will enjoy this part. You may throw things at me for the ending of this, but I PROMISE, part three will pick up right where we leave off here. ;)

_**Part Two -Killian** _   
_Shake the Glitter Off_

Blonde and willowy had never been his type. He preferred dark hair, curves ... at least, that was what he'd thought. Until he'd seen  _her_. Even on the crowded gaming floor at the casino, there had been something about her that had caught his eye from across the room. There'd been something about her. Something that made him yearn to be closer to her, made him want to know what her name was, what her life was like, made him want to know  _her_.

And even now, three years later, the effect was the same. Seeing her there, in his bar, tripping over the leg of the chair like she'd done when he'd first met her - it was the strangest sort of deja vu, but the kind that lent itself more to  _fate_ , if you asked Killian.

And God, she'd looked just as beautiful as he'd remembered. Part of him had thought maybe it was the hazy memory of the best night of his life, added with all the liquor he'd consumed, that made her seem like some sort of angel-goddess hybrid in his mind when he remembered her.

But seeing her again had hit him like a suckerpunch. She really  _was_ the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen. Everything about her screamed to every part of him, making him yearn to touch her, to just be  _near_  her, as if whatever beacon it was she was emanating would somehow make him  _right_  again.

It had only been one night. But he hadn't been able to stop thinking of Emma since. She haunted his every waking minute, he'd thought about trying to find her, so many times ... but something had made him back down every time. And today ... well, today was the reason why. Whatever it was that he had felt that night ... it was clearly something she wanted to leave in the past.

It was something  _he_  should want to leave in the past as well.

He'd spent the five years of his life before he'd met her, lost at sea, so to speak. He was honorably discharged from the British Royal Navy, following the accident that had killed his brother and several other men aboard their ship ... only to return home to find that his fiancee, having grown tired of Killian's naval career taking him away from home so often, had run off with another man. Two years later, he'd learned that she'd died, giving birth to a baby - after telling Killian for  _years_  that she never wanted a family.

After that, there was nothing left. He found solace in the bottle, and it was one drunken night that he decided he needed a change of scenery. He'd packed up and left his life in the UK behind, without a plan or much money to his name. An old buddy from his naval academy days had invited him for a weekend in Vegas, and, having had nothing better to do, Killian had agreed.

Anything was better than the hell his life had become.

But something about meeting her that night had brought everything into sharp focus for him. After five years of wasting his life, and his time, brooding over the life that he'd lost and contemplating just ending it all ... there had been a bright spot. Just one ... but she was enough. She gave him a  _reason_. And even if it was all liquor-fueled and completely fabricated in his mind as so much more than it really was ... it had felt so good, to belong to someone. He'd never gotten the chance to be Milah's husband, though he'd wanted to.

But he'd gotten to be  _hers_. And somehow, it had felt like enough. Enough that he was begging her not to leave the next morning, wanting to say anything to make her stay with him. Whatever it was he was feeling, he hadn't wanted to let it go.

But she had.

Sighing heavily and leaning against the bar, he looked down at the papers she'd left. The bitch of it all was that he didn't  _have_  a lawyer, he'd only been trying to buy himself more time. Time to figure out what he was going to do.

He'd let her walk out of his life once before, before they even got a  _chance_  to see if maybe there was something to this ... to  _them_. He didn't want to make that mistake again. She hadn't  _had_  to come looking for him ... but she'd done it anyway. That alone gave him a little bit of hope.

Reaching into his pocket for his cell, he inwardly groaned when he saw the eight missed calls and two voicemail notifications. All from Hannah. What a mess  _that_  was going to be.

When he'd first met Hannah, two years ago, when she'd come into the bar with her friends, she'd reminded him enough of Milah that he'd thought that maybe  _that_  would be what he needed. A reminder of the things he'd wanted  _before_. Something to shake him from the hopelessness of the situation he clung to - the impossible blonde who had never really been his to begin with, but who he'd felt a soul-deep connection with, nevertheless. He had to get her off his mind.

And God, he'd  _tried_.

Hannah had said she wasn't looking for anything serious, and that had been just fine with him, because he wasn't either. He had just wanted a distraction, somewhere else to focus his attention. And it had worked for awhile. But then she'd started hinting that she wanted  _more_  ... and he'd told her he was already married.

As if it were some real, living, breathing, tangible  _thing_. As if it wasn't just some drunken night in Vegas, some phantom green-eyed beauty who haunted his dreams. He couldn't give Hannah more, he said, because he belonged to someone else.

It was bullshit, and he knew it, but something about the lie felt so  _right_  that he hadn't even bothered to correct himself.

He really was a fool.

And now she had come back into his life. And he'd be damned if he was going to let her leave again without at  _least_  getting some answers. Or some closure. Something.  _Anything_.

"Oi, Sam!" Killian called back to his coworker in the back. "I'm not feeling well, I'm gonna have Ricky come in and cover my shift," he said when Sam came from the back room. He was already dialing the number as he tossed the dishtowel he'd slung over his shoulder onto the bartop and headed for the door.

He wasn't proud of what he did next, but he only had a day ... a day to try and convince her that maybe leaving wasn't the right move. That whatever it was that was in her life now might not be more important than whatever this  _feeling_  he felt when he was near her, or even when he merely thought of her, was.

He'd watched her from the window of the bar, as she'd gotten into a cab. He'd recognized the cab, the driver was one of his friends. He knew it was completely unethical of him to  _ask_  for the information ... and it had taken some cajoling to get Will to give up the details, but an hour later, he stood in the lobby of her hotel, flashing his most charming grin at the lady behind the desk as he went on dramatically about how his wife had been so upset to miss their anniversary because of her business trip, and how he was there to surprise her.

Didn't hurt that he'd stopped and picked up flowers on his way, really made the story more believable.

He tried not to dwell too long on the fact that it really  _was_  their anniversary.

Technically.

It worked though, the lady had "awww"ed about how sweet he was to do such a thing, and had given him Emma's room number.

Christ, the poor lass would probably get fired for that if this went badly.

But he couldn't think about that as he rode the elevator to the fifth floor, his heart pounding in his chest, his throat a little dry. There was every possibility that she might call the cops and have him arrested for this ... but it might just be worth it. Just to see her again.

After debating for a few agonizing moments, he finally knocked on her door, perhaps a little more forcefully than necessary, but he was nervous. He had no idea how this was all going to play out ... but it was worth it. To him, it was worth it.  _She_  was.

Her expression was confused when she answered the door, slowly giving way to utter disbelief when she saw him. "You are a  _stalker_ ," she said, crossing her arms in front of her as she looked at him.

But she hadn't slammed the door in his face. That was something.

"Emma, love, please ... "

"The only reason I can think of for you to be here right now is that you've gotten those papers signed and you've brought them back to me," she said, her tone clipped. But there was something in her eyes that let him know that him being there ... it wasn't as unwelcome as she tried to make it seem.

"I haven't signed the papers," he told her, sighing a bit as he looked at her. She looked exhausted - no doubt she'd had a long trip from wherever it was she lived now to bring him those papers. Her blonde waves were slightly disheveled, her green eyes were searching his as if trying to figure out what the hell he wanted, her mouth slightly downturned.

There was no reason for him to feel this way about her, no reason that this woman, who, by all accounts, was just a supremely glorified one-night stand, should be occupying so many of his thoughts. There was no reason for him to be here.

But there was nowhere else he  _wanted_  to be. Deciding that the worst she could do was kick him out, he offered up the bouquet of lilies he'd brought with him -  _she'd made some remark in passing about the painting of the lilies in his hotel room that night, and he'd remembered -_  giving her his most winning smile. "Happy Anniversary, Emma," he said with a flourish.

Emma's brows shot up as she looked at him, and for a second, he thought he was about to get slapped, but then he saw the way the corners of her lips were twitching upward, ever-so-slightly. "You're so weird," she told him, taking the flowers from him and sniffing them, as though she didn't want to appear  _too_ eager.

"Been called worse things," he told her, still grinning at her.

"What do you  _want_ , Killian?" she asked him then, chewing on her bottom lip, an action he found  _most_  distracting.

He made himself look back at her eyes, trying not to remember the way it had felt to kiss those lips of hers, to feel them trailing over his skin, the way they'd parted with breathy gasps of his name ... It was hard to be around her and not want to touch her. He wondered briefly what she'd say or do if he told her that he wanted her in his bed again.

Probably not the best way to lead this conversation off.

"I just want to talk to you," he told her, holding his hands up in a gesture of innocence. "That's all."

Emma exhaled, eyeing him in a way that he couldn't tell if she was sizing him up or checking him out, and he couldn't help but wonder if she ever thought about their night together the way that  _he_ thought about it. If she ever missed him. "What do you want to talk about?" she asked. "If it's about the papers, I have nothing to say ... it should have been done a long time ago, it shouldn't have taken three years for  _either_  of us to do this."

"Do you really think that?" he asked her, arching a brow as he leaned against the doorjamb then. He heard her intake of breath, saw the way her lashes fluttered when she looked at him, and felt something close to smug satisfaction.

She was as affected by him as he was by her.

"Of course I do," she said then, giving him a look that clearly stated she thought he was crazy. "Surely you have parts of your life that you want to get on with that this is only going to complicate."

It was then that something dawned on him. That's what this was about. There was somebody else. That's why she was here  _now_ , after all this time. "Emma," he said slowly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Is that why you're here? Is this  _complicating_  things for you?" Her brow creased and all he wanted to do was press his lips to her forehead, to make those little lines disappear. The last thing he wanted was to see her in distress.

The last thing he wanted was to lose her before he'd even had a chance.

"I ... " she started, her mouth opening, but no words coming out.

He shook his head, he didn't want to have a conversation of the magnitude that he thought this one would be, standing in the hallway of her hotel. "Have dinner with me," he said then, and it must have taken her by surprise, because she blinked, looking at him as if he'd suggested they go for a walk on the moon.

"What?" she asked. "Now?"

"Well, yes," he said, his expression droll. "You have to eat, and it turns out that I do too, so we might as well both do that at the same time, in the same area."

Emma made a face at him. "Haha," she said, rolling her eyes. "Wouldn't your girlfriend be mad if she found out?"

"That I ate dinner?" Killian asked, purposefully sidestepping what she was  _really_  asking. And he couldn't tell if it was just wishful thinking, but was that the tiniest tinge of  _jealousy_  in her voice? "I've been known to do it, actually, I think she'll understand."

"If I go to dinner, will you sign the papers?"

He had to hand it to her, she was shrewd, this wife of his. "Are you trying to  _bribe_  me now, Swan?" he asked her, a teasing lilt in his voice as he leaned a bit closer. "If that's the case, I'm sure you could entice me to do just about anything with the right bargaining ... tools." As he spoke, he couldn't help but let his gaze drift over her shoulder, into her room, where he could see the bed behind her, a little further in.

Emma's lips parted, her lashes fluttering again, in a way he found  _most_  beguiling ... they'd done that in Vegas, as well, when he'd first suggested she kiss him. And what a kiss that had been. Of course, she'd been an equal match for him there, and she continued to prove her mettle to him, even now, as she stepped forward, her eyes flicking up to his as she pressed her hand against his chest.

He swallowed thickly, every part of his body coming alive at her nearness, the warm lavender and vanilla scent that seemed to envelope her and permeate his senses - the one that he remembered so well from their night together that he couldn't even catch a whiff of lavender any more without hardening at the thought of her.

"Are you suggesting that I fuck you to get you to sign the papers?" she asked then, her voice lower now, huskier ... he knew she was tempting him on purpose, but he was a fool through and through for her.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it like  _that_ ," he countered, his brow cocked, a lopsided smirk on his lips. He noted the way she'd tipped her face up, the way her lips were just inches from his own ... he would only have to take half a step and he could have her in his arms again, could have his mouth slanted over hers ...

Until she punched him in the shoulder - and it  _hurt_. She might be small, but she was nothing less than fierce, and he found that oddly appealing about her. What the hell was wrong with him?

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

He almost laughed when she voiced his very thoughts, but he was mesmerized by the way her eyes were snapping green fire at him now. God, was there  _nothing_  this woman did that he didn't find appealing in some way?

"It was just a suggestion?" he said hopefully, charmingly, as he rubbed at the sore spot on his arm then. "Dinner works too, whichever you think you have time for."

Emma rolled her eyes, and he really thought she was going to slam the door for sure this time.

But to his surprise, she laughed, and he was entranced by the sound of it, the way her face looked when she smiled. He took that little step forward, he couldn't resist, his eyes dropping to her lips as his hand came up to her cheek.

She froze, her own eyes going wide as she looked up again him, and he could hear her sharp intake of breath. Her body angled ever so slightly into his, and he knew there was no power on this earth that was going to keep him from her. "Killian ... " she breathed out. "I ... "

"Shh," he told her, his voice laced with an edge of demand as he tipped her chin up so his lips could descend upon hers. He felt her tense for the briefest second, but then her lips softened against his, a sigh escaping her, that only fueled his need for her even more.

He groaned, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, fingers tangling in those blonde tresses that he'd dreamed about every night since she'd left him. His tongue slid out against her bottom lip, begging for entry, and when she parted her lips, he took full advantage, exploring her mouth as he stepped forward again, moving her back into her room, up against the nearest wall.

Her own tongue slid against his, her fingers coming to thread through the hair at the nape of his neck, her body arching deliciously against his, even as she pulled back, her eyes searching his face. "Killian ... " she breathed out again, but it wasn't a sound of admonishment or even chagrin, and just as soon as she'd said the words, she was kissing him again, more needfully than before.

He knew exactly what her body was telling him, because he felt it all the way to his bones.

They shouldn't be doing this now.

But how could they stop?


End file.
